


Ella

by ThaiKhue



Series: Ella [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternately Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThaiKhue/pseuds/ThaiKhue
Summary: A woman who wanders the world to work with people. A man who shuts himself in the lab to work with potions. An impaired breed of wizardkind and a wizard deeply wounded by blood prejudice. An activist in daylight; a protector in darkness. And The Boy Who Lived in between them.(AU: The Dark Lord will not return so the world moves on without him. Warning: Mild alcohol use, attempted suicide).





	1. Spinner's End

 

Ella has to refrain from cursing.

The map in her hands is not making sense anymore. To make things worse, a huge drop of rain mercilessly drills a hole through the pathetic piece of paper. Now it's real hopeless.

She has managed to get lost. Again. Not that she minds. Getting lost has been an integral part of her life, and it would feel wrong if she made it through a single month without any events of getting lost. That, however, does not keep her from the desire to curse her map and the universe in general for getting her into this.

The eave over her head is useless. It is too small to do any good. All the houses in this whole neighbourhood look exactly the same – none of them is capable of providing a bigger eave. It is getting dark and the rain is displaying a tendency of turning into a storm. Congratulations, Ella, you are doomed.

She is too busy wiping the water from her face to notice two figures approaching until they are standing right in front of her.

He is a tall man. A really, really tall man, with black hair, black eyes, black clothes and a black umbrella. He is accompanied by a boy with black hair but other parts not so black. The man is staring at her. The boy is shuttling his eyes between her and the man. She is too taken by surprise to do anything but staring back.

After a few moments, the man speaks up:

"If you don't mind, Miss, we wish to enter our home."

Oops.

"I'm sorry."

She steps aside from the entrance door she has been blocking. The man shoves the key into the door without delay and without another glance at her. The boy, however, eyes her curiously and seems to be expecting something from the man. But nothing happens.

Difficult folks. But the rain has indeed turned into a storm now and Ella's survival instinct overrides everything else. She asks hurriedly before they close the door:

"Excuse me, sir. I have got lost. I wonder if there are any telephone booths nearby I can use to call a cab?"

The man shoots her a look that screams "How dare you bother me with your stupid question?". She ignores it. Finally, the man replies:

"Unfortunately, no."

Ella hears the boy exclaiming something before the door shuts. It is really storming up; the wind whips at her face and that hurts. Okay, it is pointless just standing here. She will sense the way by her intuition. At least there is the chance of finding a better eave.

She has shoved what is left of her map into her shoulder bag and turned to leave when the door opens again. The boy peeks out and calls upon her:

"Miss, please come in. It's storming. You shouldn't be outside; it's dangerous."

While Ella is still hesitating, the boy steps aside and gestures her to enter. In three seconds, she weighs the options and decides to agree with the boy. It is indeed dangerous to walk in a storm like this; broken branches have started to fly wildly over her head.

"Thank you. It's very kind of you," she smiles at the boy. He grins back.

For the unfortunate woman who has lost her way and been standing half an hour in the rain, the warmth and the pleasant smell of herbs inside the house are heavenly. The boy sits her down in a worn-out armchair and offers a dry towel.

"I will bring you some tea."

"Thank you."

The boy leaves the living room, presumably for the kitchen. The moment her face dries up, Ella immediately registers the extraordinary number of books around her.

The room is literally covered in bookshelves and piles of books. All of them look very antique. Failing to refrain her curiosity, she studies the titles nearest to her.

When the boy gets back with tea, she asks:

"You are wizards, aren't you?"

He freezes on the spot.

Feeling some explanation is needed, she adds:

"I guess from the titles of these books."

The aforementioned man suddenly peeks in at the door and asks with a demanding voice:

"You are a witch?"

"No, I'm a muggle."

"Don't. Lie. To. Me," he hisses dangerously and steps in, his form towering over her.

She is taken aback. And annoyed, in addition.

"No. What would I lie for?  _Sir_?"

"These books are charmed muggle-resistant. Only wizards and witches can see the real titles. And. Only. Wizards. And. Witches. Use. The. Word. 'Muggle'."

Ella shrugs:

"I can see through muggle-resistant charms. I am a wizard-born muggle."

Both the boy and the man look confused.

"You mean you are a squib?" the boy asks, tilting his head.

"Yes, 'squib' is the British term. But I prefer the international term, which is 'wizard-born muggle'."

The man frowns, his eyes impossibly narrow:

"Where are you from?"

"Finland. _Sir_."

This family is upside down. The child is amazingly polite and the adult is amazingly rude. It should be the other way around shouldn't it?

The boy clears his throat and proceeds to serve the tea. He asks the man:

"Tea for you too?"

"No."

"Okay. Where is your home, Miss? How did you get lost?"

"My home is in Finland. I am here to run an errand. I think there is something wrong with my map because I couldn't find the way as it shows."

"There has been construction work around here," says the man. "Passenger routes have been blocked and redirected in a very disorganized way. No one would bother to update the map given that only one house in this neighbourhood is still occupied."

"You mean you are the only family living here?"

"Obviously," the man sneers.

Rude. But Ella doesn't care. Dictated by her second instinct, she immediately rearches for the notebook in her bag and rushes to note down the interesting fact.

"What are you writing, Miss?"

"Facts," she replies without looking up.

"Facts?" the boy tilts his head once more.

"Oh, never mind," she says while closing her notebook.

The man lazily points his wand at one of the bookshelves to summon a map. He almost throws it on the table in front of her. Almost.

"Please locate the place you want to get to. I can escort you to the nearest apparition point."

Ella reaches the table to open the map, not without a glare at the rude man. She tries to focus on the fact that he is trying to help. She can suffer from this little rudeness in exchange for a fast, safe trip back to her hostel.

She points at the location:

"It's here. _Sir_."

The man glances at her index finger. There is an apparition point one block away from the hostel. He briskly grabs his travel cloak and delivers another glare to her. His unspoken "Stand up and leave my house at once, woman" translates into "Go warm up the food" addressed to the boy. He holds out his arm without another word. Ella suppresses her protesting pride and stands up.

"Goodbye, thank you very much for your hospitality," she smiles brightly at the boy, hoping her effort to point out the stark contrast catches the man's attention. She wants just that.

She grabs the man's arm. He asks coldly:

"Secured?"

"Yes.  _Sir_."

They disapparate. A moment later, they appear on the street of her hostel. The storm has eased out. She glares at the man and finds herself being glared at too (once again).

"Thank you.  _Sir_."

"You are welcome."

Without any further pleasantries (which apparently do not exist in his being), the man disappears. Ella shrugs it off and happily heads towards her hostel. Another night to enjoy her adventurous and exciting life, which is not so lack of encounters with strange human beings, wizarding and muggle alike.


	2. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Väinämöinen = the Finnish approximate version of Merlin.

The first day Ella is back at her office after the field trip in Britain, the awaited owl from the British Ministry of Magic arrives and drops two rolls of parchment on her lunch. (She rescues it in time so the lunch is still edible). She pushes the food aside and rushes to open them.

Perfect. Three families agree to host and let her observe their daily life. Nine heads of household agree to be interviewed. All the neighbourhoods she has visited are represented. This is simply perfect. So perfect that she can actually skip lunch and still feel perfect.

She skims through the participants' profiles. One of them makes her pause.

Head of household: SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE

Year of birth: 1960

Occupation: Teacher; freelance potioneer

Address: 4 Spinner's End, Cokeworth

Family status: Single father (half-blood), 1 school-age child (adopted, half-blood)

Consent to: Interview.

She snorts at the memory it brings back. Maybe she can drop out this particular participant.

But his neighbourhood is an interesting case.

She can still afford to drop him out.

But his family is an interesting case too. The only family with an adopted child and both he and the child are half-bloods.

Wait, there is a note...

Note:

Meeting for interview at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland. Please find details of the arrangement in the enclosed letter.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?!

Oh my, it is not a place one can just randomly visit. The most ancient and prestigious school of magic in Europe, probably also in the world. And if she is lucky she may even have a chance to see Albus Dumbledore in person!

The enclosed letter bears the seal of Hogwarts. She opens the roll of parchment with excitement. Her heart jumps at the elegant handwriting.

From: Prof. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Great Britain

To: Miss Ella Marja Virtanen, Wizarding Ethnographer, Department of Social Research and Development, the Finnish Ministry of Magic, Finland

Dear Miss Virtanen,

It is our pleasure to learn that you will visit our school on October 3rd, 1992 to carry out an interview with one of our teachers, Professor Severus Snape, as a part of your research project.

On the occassion of your visit, we would like to invite you with honour for:

1\. A short school tour after your interview;

2\. A regular lunch with our staffs and students;

3\. A short meeting with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

Should your schedule require, we will be glad to invite you also for dinner and a stay overnight in our guest quarters.

Please kindly inform us about your plans for arrival and departure as well as your preferences concerning our suggestions by September 25th, 1992 so that we can be well-prepared for your visit.

Best regards,

Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore

Ella blinks. Is she dreaming?

o0o

No, Ella is not dreaming. She has replied to the school and received the confirmation. She wonders all the way from Finland to London and from London to Scotland on the Hogwarts Express what she owes the pleasure to. Why on earth would Hogwarts, of all places, grace her with such hospitality? And why on earth would Albus Dumbledore, of all people, be interested in meeting with her?

The questions fall off her mind for a few minutes when the trolley passes by her compartment. The colourful sweets catch her attention. She buys a large box of chocolate frogs. She is heading to a school full of children and it would be handy to have some sweets with her in case she gets to work (or play) with some of them during the day.

Ella is in the habit of bringing Finnish chocolate to gift her interviewees after they get the business done. She snorts again at the thought of the particular interviewee she is meeting today. She has decided, after a long contemplation, to treat him equally to other interviewees and bring him the customary chocolate. She owes him an apparition trip any way, so she will give him the chocolate and call it even. And at least his nice, kind son will have a share.

Ella is picked up from the train station by the school's groundkeeper, a cute, friendly half-giant (he admits it shyly). She is then ushered into the enormous, marvelous castle and down several stair flights to what is supposed to be Professor Snape's quarters.

The professor looks and behaves exactly the same as how he did more than two months ago during their little encounter at Spinner's End, except for maybe the one second his face betrays his surprise when he (presumably) recognizes his once-unwanted-guest.

Ella is usually not happy when interviews designed to last half an hour end up lasting only fifteen minutes. But today said interview lasts ten minutes and she is not that unhappy. She can save the frustration for later, when this man's boring and useless responses disturb her data (Honestly, why did he even agree to participate to begin with?!). Now she gets to experience life at Hogwarts for a whole day and meet Albus Dumbledore! She can suffer from ten Severus Snapes in exchange for this one day.

"Thank you, I don't eat chocolate."

"Then please take it for your son," Ella delivers an apparently fake smile.

The man rolls his eyes.

"Fine. Are we finished?"

"Yes."

He stands up, proceeds to the fireplace, throws in a handful of Floo powder and dictates:

"Professor McGonagall's office."

A moment later, someone's face appears blurrily in the fire.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Miss Virtanen is ready, Minerva."

"Why so fast? But all right, the Head Boy and Head Girl will be at your quarters in five minutes."

Ella has the feeling that the man frowns at the phrase "five minutes", but it's just a feeling you know, not anyone's fault. She decides to spare the man the awkwardness by sticking her nose to her notebooks, which he responses to by sticking his own nose to what she assumes to be his students' homework. Or he would do that any way regardless of what Ella might be doing, she doesn't know. And she doesn't care.

They are rescued from each other's company five minutes later by two students, the school's Head Boy and Head Girl, who then escort Ella on the school tour. She happily enjoys her reward for the long trip and the boring, unfruitful ten-minute interview. The. Castle. Is. Simply. Fantastic.

Before lunch, she has the chance for a casual meeting with the professors and school staffs in the staff room. Most of them are old, some very old, and most are nice and friendly except for... you-know-who. However, she notices that the other staffs have no problem teasing and mocking said you-know-who despite his... you know, his being how he is. Maybe he is "bullied" because he seems to be the youngest?

Ella is interested in the British wizarding society for a reason. Finland is a young nation, and wizarding Finland is even younger because it gained dependence from wizarding Sweden much later than its muggle counterpart. Britain, on the contrary, is known for its long history and old traditions. She is both excited and slightly panicked when she finds herself at the huge, high staff table, looking down at the student body who are making no pretence to hide curious looks and whispers over their lunch about the muggle visitor. Muggle, of course, it is written all over her appearance. But in the midst of those looks and whispers, she notices something that brightens her up.

A boy wearing glasses rises his mop of messy hair to look at her, and they exchange smiles. He recognizes her too. You have chocolate, little one, go get it from you dad. He doesn't eat chocolate so all is yours. When the boy turns back to his friends, Ella also starts to engage in a conversation with the teacher sitting next to her - Professor Charity Burbage, teacher of Muggle Studies.

She gets a little panicked again when the meeting with Professor Dumbledore approaches. She has seen and greeted him at lunch. He looks extraordinarily gentle and casual for all what his name is attached to. She gets even more panicked when he offers to escort her to his office by himself and she totally has a headache when he tells the password to his doorguard statue:

"Creamy Apricot."

She calms down a bit after settling in her seat, with a cup of tea and a pair of twinkling eyes in front of her.

"It's our pleasure to welcome you to Hogwarts today, Miss Virtanen. I hope the interview went well and you enjoyed the school tour and the lunch?"

"All are well, Professor. Thank you very much for your hospitality," she smiles.

"I am glad you enjoy your stay," the old man smiles back. "I wish to have a short meeting with you because I have a suggestion to make. As you may have known, for security reasons we are obglibed to be informed about your identity and background before we can invite you to visit during the school year when students are present. Since Professor Snape resides here at the time your interview is scheduled, it is natural that he meets with you here and that we welcome you as a guest of the school. That results in the fact that I, as well as the other staffs, am informed about your background. I am impressed by your work and research interests. As I understand from your background information, it is your interest to study the interaction and co-existence of the wizarding and muggle communities."

He pauses and looks at Ella expectantly.

"That's true, sir. And I am particularly interested in the British society."

"And you have done excellent work on that, which brings me back to my suggestion. We are planning to extend the scope of one of the subjects in our curriculum, Muggle Studies. We however have only one part time professor for Muggle Studies at the time being, therefore we are looking for another professor who can commit full time to teaching and developing the subject. Miss Virtanen, if you are interested, I would like to offer you the position of full time Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts."

Ella freezes and fights to prevent her jaw from dropping.

"I would assume we don't have any better conditions than those of your current job to offer. However, with regards to your research interests, I believe if you would like to carry out your personal research along with your teaching, as a Hogwarts professor you will have certain exclusive rights to access the Ministry of Magic's resources that may be useful for studying the British society."

And she will get to move to Britain. And she will not have to travel long distances for her field trips. And living in Britain, she will know the place better and hopefully get lost less often. And she will have a job at the most ancient and prestigious school of magic in Europe (probably also in the world), whose headmaster is Albus Dumbledore of all people.

Ella blinks. Is she dreaming?


	3. Harry Potter

 

The autumn of 1993 witnesses the day Ella Virtanen officially becomes a full-time Hogwarts professor. Together with her, two other new professors are introduced to the staff: Professor Rubeus Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures and Professor Remus Lupin for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Ella starts working on her classroom design immediately after the first staff meeting. She has been imagining how her classroom should look like for the past whole year since the day the headmaster made the job offer. She smiles at the vision of young, innocent and curious faces that will enter her mini world of Muggle Studies a few days next. She used to be one of those faces, although at a humble local wizarding school in Southwest Finland, not one that is comparable to Hogwarts.

She is concentrating too much on her work to notice someone landing in the corridor in front of her classroom on a broomstick.

That someone knocks the classroom door which has been left open.

"Good morning, professor?"

Ella turns around and finds the mop of messy hair and the bright smile she has never forgotten.

"Oh... You are here!"

"I came to school early with my dad. I was flying around and I saw you here."

The boy pauses for a moment, and then seems to realise something.

"... professor," he adds shyly.

"I see. Are you heading somewhere? Want a cup of tea?"

"No... I mean yes, thank you, professor. I am just 'fooling around', as my dad calls it..."

"Come in then," Ella waves at the boy, who follows her to enter and of course, looks around the classroom with curiosity written all over his face.

"Thank you, professor," the boy says when she passes him the cup of tea. "And thank you for the chocolate, my dad said you brought it for me."

"It's actually for both of you. But your dad said he doesn't eat chocolate, so naturally all of it went to you."

The boy looks a little confused at that. But then he seems to shake it off his head.

"It was nice. I loved it."

"I'm glad to hear that," Ella smiles.

"Why did you bring us chocolate... professor?"

"I brought chocolate for all participants in my project, and your dad - your family - was one of them."

"Really? How many... uhm... participants do you have?"

"In the project that your family was involved, there were twelve families in total."

"So you brought chocolate for all of them."

"Yes."

"Are all of them in Britain?"

"Yes. I have been studying Britain for the past few years."

"Do you like Britain, professor?"

"It depends what aspects of Britain you are talking about. Would you mind if I continue putting up these things while we talk?"

"No, I don't mind, professor. Sorry, am I bothering you?"

"No, kid. It's lovely that you drop by. I didn't have the chance to talk to you when I visited last year."

"Uhm... professor, would you like me to help you with that? I mean, you are trying to put those posters on the wall, aren't you?"

"Yes. Why?"

"You know... if you want, I can..."

The boy shyly pulls out his wand and looks at Ella expectantly. She nods:

"Give it a try."

He makes a few waves with his wand, and all the posters clumsily fly up and stick themselves to the walls - clumsily, but the end product is qualified.

"Perfect. Thank you!"

"Dad taught me how to do it last year when he decided to keep me busy by letting me help him set up the classroom. I know many tricks for potion ingredients and cauldrons and brewing stations... but you don't teach Potions, so... Uhm... Can I help with anything else?"

"No, thank you, this is good enough. You have done half of my work in a few seconds."

The boy smiles and starts to swing his legs back and forth from the desk he is sitting on.

"Doesn't your dad need help with his classroom now?"

"No, he never needs help. He let me help only to keep me busy and out of trouble."

"I see."

"Your classroom looks interesting, professor," says the boy while his eyes curiously browse the posters on the walls and the artefacts displayed on the shelves.

"Does it? I can't wait to welcome you kids to my class. Which year are you in?"

"I'm in third year, professor."

Ella feels dizzy. Is there a proper way to escape from having that title planted in each and every single sentence addressed to her?

"I see. What's your name by the way?"

"I am Harry. Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter... Potter? I thought you should be a Mr Snape?"

"Yes, I should be... But my dad said I am the heir of the Potter line and the Potter line is an ancient and noble pureblood house and if I changed my last name into Snape it would mean putting an end to the Potter line because it wouldn't make sense if I'm a Snape and later name my children Potters and all... So I chose to keep Potter as my last name."

"Okay, that's a bit long... But I got it. So you are Mr Potter."

"Yes. But uhm... well, some professors do call me Harry, so if you don't mind..."

"No, I don't, Harry," Ella smiles.

Suddenly, a cloud of silver light in the shape of a doe appears out of thin air in front of them. It speaks in a man's silky voice:

"Lunch, Mr Potter."

As the doe disappears, Ella blinks:

"Is it from your dad?"

"Yes, it is. He is calling me for lunch."

"I can figure that out. But why does your dad call you 'Mr Potter'?"

"Habits die hard, I guess...," the boy answers shyly. "Well, the thing is I was his student before becoming his adopted son so many things have changed but that particular thing remains... I don't think it's that important though. He does call me 'Harry' when necessary."

"When necessary?"

"Yes."

"And don't tell me you call your dad 'professor' also in private?" Ella giggles. This family is funny indeed.

"I used to... Now I call him 'sir'. Or 'Severus', which is of the exact same number of syllables as 'professor' as he pointed out, but it makes me feel more at home so I go with it."

 

"I see. But you do refer to him as 'dad'."

"Well yes... But actually looking at him and calling him 'dad' is quite a different story, you know..."

"HARRY!"

Both of them are startled by the yelling voice coming from somewhere along the corridor.

"Merlin I'm dead," Harry exclaims before rushing out of the room.

His dad storms towards him and stops right in front of the classroom.

"Did. You. Get. My. Message?" he hisses to the boy, and right that moment Ella totally gets what Harry meant by "Merlin I'm dead".

"Yes, sir..."

"AND. PRAY. TELL. WHY. YOU. ARE. STILL. HERE. NOW?"

"Uhm... Professor Snape?" Ella speaks up. She deems it extremely necessary to rescue the poor little boy.

The man glances at her and takes one second to register her presence.

"Professor Virtanen," he replies with a blank face.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault. Harry and I have been talking and we... I lost track of time."

His eyes move from Ella back to poor Harry and continue the glaring.

"It's fine, Professor Virtanen. It's Mr Potter's responsibility to keep track of his time."

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry mutters, looking a perfect illustration for "Merlin I'm dead".

Snape delivers one more death glare to Harry before turning on his heels with a swish of his robe:

"Goodbye, Professor Virtanen, and I apologise if Mr Potter has bothered you."

"No, Professor Snape, we were just having tea and Harry even helped me with my classroom. He didn't bother me at all. I'm sorry again for losing track of time and keeping him here too long."

"I said it is fine, Professor Virtanen."

Without another glance at Ella, he departs on his way. Harry briskly grabs his broomstick, sends her a quick "Goodbye, professor" and barely has time to take her reply before half walking, half running after his dad. She can't help but peek out of her classroom to steal a look as they walk away. The man picks Harry's ear while scolding:

"Irresponsible. Brat!"

"Ouch! I'm sorry!" Harry almost jumps from the pain.

That immediately turns Ella's children-protection mode on and something is definitely going to happen.

However, that something never happens because the next second, the same hand that picked the boy's ear has turned to gently striking through his hair. She can no longer hear them because they are heading further and further away from her classroom. Harry almost disappears behind his dad's billowing robe, like a baby bat under his father's wing.


	4. Lotus

"How much trouble were you in this morning?" Ella asks while passing Harry a bowl of candy.

"Not much. He was just worried."

"You should be more careful next time. I would have been worried too were I in his position."

"Yes, professor," the boy replies shyly and starts to swing his legs.

"Does he know you are here now?"

"Yes. I told him."

"That's good then. At least he knows where to find you. But couldn't you have sent him a reply message? The way he sent it to you?"

"You mean the patronus?"

"It is called a patronus?"

"You don't know it, professor?"

"No, I don't. It was the first time I saw something like that."

"It was a patronus. My dad's patronus. It is advanced magic. He is teaching me how to do it but I haven't managed yet."

"I see. Well, that's enough sugar intake for today, young man," Ella takes the candy bowl away from Harry's enthusiastically picking fingers. "Would you like some berries?"

Harry flushes:

"I'm sorry."

"You are forgiven whatever you are being sorry for," Ella replies absent-mindedly while walking towards her kitchen to fetch her collection of berries and a bottle of homemade blueberry juice.

When she comes back, the boy is still flushing. He awkwardly drives the topic away from the sugar intake:

"Thank you for this morning, professor. For trying to... you know, talk me out of trouble."

Ella fights back a grin and pours themselves two glasses of juice.

"I was not trying to talk you out of trouble. It was partly my fault. Although I was indeed concerned when you said you were dead."

Harry flushes even more and swings his legs more vigorously.

"Have some berries. They are good for your health. I take it your dad is strict?"

"He is not strict. He is legendary," the boy brightens up, giggles and starts to help himself with the berries.

"What do you mean 'legendary'?"

"You will see when students arrive, especially the first years."

"Is he in charge of welcoming the first years or something?"

"Merlin, no!," he bursts into laughter. "I'm sorry. I mean, no, he is not welcoming the first years. They would scream and run straight home if he were. Professor McGonagall is bad enough - I mean scary enough, but when she welcomed us in my first year, we did have some nerve left to at least walk in."

Ella chuckles at the vision. Poor kids, why couldn't it be someone with a big smile or something waiting for them at the doorstep? Imagine a bunch of eleven-year-olds bouncing towards Hogwarts for the first time and ending up facing an old witch whose appearance alone screams "Do. Not. Even. Think. Of. Messing. With. Discipline. Here."

"It seems your professors are strict, aren't they?"

"I don't know. But I think most of the professors are... you know, just normal. It's Professor McGonagall and... I guess, my dad, who are equals. Well, not exactly. They have different ways. But they both scare the daylights out of first years. Not that the upper years are not scared, we are just more accustomed to it. Only my dad makes them cry though. Anyway, he is improving. I hope this year he will make fewer poor first years cry," the boy trails off, at some point seeming to talk to himself and forget about his company.

Ella frowns:

"Why would the first years cry?"

"There are different reasons. I don't know how my dad always ends up reducing at least some of them to tears every year. Even though he swears to me he has no interest in making little dunderheads cry. He was simply running his class and it was out of his control that some of them decided to display their distress that way."

"Little. Dunderheads?!," Ella repeats with disbelief. Just why on earth would a teacher refer to his students like that when talking to his son, no less?

"Uhm... well... you see... I have been complaining a lot about that too. But honestly, I think I would have a heart attack if one day I heard my dad speaking about his students in Professor Flitwitch's sweetie-cutie tone. It is just... how he is, you know," the boy shrugs.

"I see."

No, it is only a catchphrase. Ella does not "see" anything here. It is NOT okay for a teacher to call his students "little dunderheads", Snape or not. Her blood starts simmering. She forces herself to remember that she is merely a teacher, a newbie no less, and far from being the headmistress. But Snape had better not let her catch him red-handed speaking about, or worst, speaking to, students that way. No, he had better not.

"But he is not all how he looks and sounds like, you know," Harry adds quietly.

Ella raises an eyebrow.

"You said he had been your teacher since before he adopted you, right?"

"Yes."

She has been waiting for a right moment to bring up that question. She is curious, merely, but deeply, curious. Harry does not really show signs of a child with complications in life (or they have simply escaped her notice), yet his background seems to be far from normal. And Snape, by the looks and the sounds, does not seem to be a normal father either.

"May I ask what happened?" Ella asks cautiously.

Harry studies his swinging feet for a while and then, perhaps realising Ella is waiting, he quietly speaks up.

"Before that, I lived with my aunt and uncle. The summer after my first year here, I caused an accident to my uncle's sister by accidental magic. The Ministry sent someone to my aunt and uncle's home to deal with it, and my aunt and uncle were so mad that they signed the paper to send me to the wizarding orphanage right that evening."

His head drops, and so does his voice. Ella doesn't know what to think. She has heard all kinds of backstories in the world, adults and children, happy and tragic. But it feels so different from this moment, when she is actually listening to this lovely, kind-hearted child, in her new classroom, without a pen ready to jot down field notes, and without her ever-analysing mind working.

She opens her mouth, then closes it. She is not sure what to say and doesn't want to take any risk. However, Harry seems to be sliding down the memory path and thus letting the story flows out.

"Then Professor Dumbledore came to the orphanage the next morning to visit me. He asked if I had in mind a family I wished to live with and said he would help me contact them and help with the arrangements. But I didn't really know any families or any adults in the wizarding world who could and would take me in. Then I remembered Hagrid. Back then he was not a professor yet, he was only the school groundskeeper. Professor Dumbledore helped him with the procedures, but they failed because his income did not meet the Ministry's requirements. So I remained in the orphanage. I thought I would belong there until I come of age. But only two weeks after I was admitted there, one week after Hagrid's adoption was rejected, my dad - Professor Snape - showed up all of a sudden and told me he wanted to adopt me. I thought I had got hit by something on the head."

Harry giggles at the memory, and Ella is still all confused.

"Why?"

"We had never got along and the whole school knew that. He had been very mean and unfair to me since day one. I was one hundred percent sure that he hated me and I didn't hesitate to make it mutual. He was the last one on earth I would imagine showing up there and offering to adopt me. I even thought he just wanted to trick me and then make fun of me if I did believe him, or he just came to continue grating on my nerve how spoiled a brat I was and why no one wanted me."

Dear Väinämöinen, this doesn't sound good. At all.

"Well he couldn't have been that bad could he?"

"I don’t know. But when I was eleven, to me Snape was capable of anything including using me as potion ingredients," Harry grins.

Ella is stuck in between a burst of laughter and a sigh.

"Why was he mean to you in the first place?"

"I had no idea until much later. He went to school with my parents. They were in the same year. He hated my dad, and I look so much like my dad that the first moment he saw me, he hated me too. Well, he said he never hated me, but for me, it's all the same. He was always mean and unfair to me for no good reason at all."

Ella rubbed her eyes. It is, unfortunately, quite easy to imagine Snape doing that.

"I didn't know that at the same time he was very close to my mum. He said she was his best friend. He didn't know I was not happy living with my aunt and uncle. When he found out I was sent to the orphanage and heard the story behind that, he came. He said he could be many things but he could not let my mum's child grow up in an orphanage, and that he misunderstood me but didn't hate me. So he asked if I wanted to go home with him. I still have no idea what hit me on the head but I agreed."

Ella smiles.

"Turns out to be a good decision, does it?"

"Well, at first we fought a lot. I even ran back to the orphanage once. We fought a lot, he yelled a lot, and I yelled back all the same. I gave up on him not once but many times and I told him to give up on me too. But dad is really a man of his word. He never gave up on me. Never. Until we found a way to get along."

Harry's features relax into a soft smile.

"You love him very much, don't you?" Ella asks gently.

He flushes, and then shyly nods. Ella wants to ask more about his blood parents, but intuition tells her not to. Perhaps not yet. She stands up and walks towards the bookshelf in her living room. A minute later, she comes back with a postcard. She gives it to Harry.

"Do you know this flower?"

The boy tilts his head at the picture:

"A lotus?"

"Yes. Do you know what it symbolises?"

"No, professor."

"Lotuses grow in mud, but they are very clean and fragrant. In some cultures, they symbolise people who have a difficult background but nevertheless keep their heads up and lead a decent life."

Emerald eyes look up at her expectantly.

"You have had a harder time than most children of your age have, but you are a nice and kind-hearted boy nonetheless. You are like a lotus. We have just met for a very short time, but I have a strong belief that you will grow up into a person you yourself will be proud of."

The boy is still staring at her and looks completely dumbstruck.

"Keep it. It's a gift from Finland," Ella smiles.

"Th.. thank you, professor," he shyly replies.

"You are welcome."

Silence endures for a few moments before Harry glances at the wall clock.

"Oh no... It's already dinner time! I have bothered you all day..."

Ella waves him off:

"No, you have not. I would have kicked you out if you had bothered me, but no, you didn't. I suppose it's time you go home?"

"Yes, professor. Will you be going down to the staff room now?"

"Yes, but I have something to do first. You should go, don't let your dad wait. And here, bring this home."

Ella gives him the berries that she has just transferred from the bowl to a box.

"Thank you, professor, but you don't have to... I have eaten a lot already..."

"It's only good to eat a lot of berries," she shoves the box into his hand. "Take it, and go before you run late."

Harry looks her in the eyes and delivers the bright smile that she ever adores:

"Thank you very much, professor."

"You are welcome. And... thank you for sharing your story with me. It is very touching."

The boy starts fidgeting and scratching the back of his head. Ella gives him a pat on his shoulder.

"See you later, kid. Drop by anytime."

"Goodbye, professor."

She stands and watches the child skipping away. The child with emerald eyes to whom she owes a cup of warm tea in the middle of a storm, at Spinner's End, in Cokeworth, on one of the endless field trips of a lonely ethnographer.


	5. Let the new teacher survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Väinämöinen = the Finnish approximate version of Merlin.

 

Harry does not come back during the rest of the week, which turns out to be a good thing since lesson planning ends up taking way more time than Ella expects, especially with staff meetings occupying the whole morning every day. She starts to feel bad about the messes she and her friends made back in school. They were fully unaware of the grand system teachers and the school staff presumably had to create and operate to keep students in place, in one piece and actually learning something.

 

Before she can even notice, the school opening day has come. Once again Ella finds herself on the high and huge staff table, in the middle row behind the headmaster and the four Heads of House, looking down at hundreds of overexcited children.

 

The level of noise goes down significantly when the entrance door opens. A little army of newly arriving first years follow Minerva into the Great Hall, looking apparently overwhelmed by the sight of everything. Ella can see some at the front of the group going pale when facing the Sorting Hat.

 

The hall falls silent when the Hat starts to sing its song. Some of the first years look even paler, others astonished. Ella is astonished too; this is truly a speciality of Hogwarts that is available only once a year. As her mind gets lost in the song, she comes across a vague idea of adding this interesting Hat into her artefact collection. Well dreams are tax-free, aren't they?

 

The silence goes dead when the deputy headmistress lifts the Hat from the stool and unrolls her parchment. However, it does not last long. House tables take turns to explode into applause every time a new member is received to the House. The newbies are quickly introduced to their respective Heads of House by indicating looks and whispers from their older housemates. With the second nature of a lifelong and professional human observer, Ella confirms what Harry said a few days before. The Gryffindors and the Slytherins seem to be the most nervous after stealing looks at their Heads of House.

 

Once all the first years have been sorted and settled where they belong, the student body go loud for a minute before the headmaster stands up and re-establishes the silence.

 

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, students. I hope you all have had a nice summer. Before we dig into the customary fascinating feast awaiting us, I have an announcement to make. I am glad to introduce three new professors on our staff this year. First, Professor Virtanen, who will be in charge of Muggle Studies."

 

Ella stands up, raises a hand and delivers a smile to the hundreds of watching eyes and absentmindedly clapping hands. As she sits back down, the headmaster continues:

 

"As you might have noticed from the list of this year's textbooks, Muggle Studies is no longer only an optional subject for the upper years. From this year onwards it will be compulsory and will stretch across the curriculum from the first to the seventh year. Therefore, Professor Virtanen will work alongside with Professor Burbage to offer instructions for all grade levels."

 

A boy in the Slytherin House displays an interesting reaction. He shoots an unpleasant look at Ella, then snorts, and then whispers something with the other two boys on his sides, looking quite pissed off. By what, Väinämöinen knows.

 

"Secondly, I would like to introduce Professor Lupin, who will be in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

 

Remus stands up and gestures a humble greeting. He has always been quiet and humble, but Ella has to admit he looks a little overly humble in this context.

 

"And third, as Professor Kettleburn has retired this year, Care of Magical Creatures will now be taught by another new professor, who is none other than our familiar groundkeeper, Professor Hagrid."

 

Naturally, Hagrid does not need to stand up to make himself visible. He looks completely happy and satisfied, and Harry and two other Gryffindors on his side are applauding extra enthusiastically.

 

"So, we have got the announcement business over with. Now it's time for the most important part of every school opening ceremony: food."

 

The headmaster clapped his hands three times, and food filled up all the tables at once. All sorts of business seem to get off everyone's mind instantly as all attention goes to the feast.

 

Ella finishes quickly and leaves early for her quarters. She lights up her classroom, double checks everything all over again before getting ready for bed. She wants to be perfectly well prepared and in a perfectly good mood for the first day of her teaching career. Well, the first day of actual teaching, anyway.

 

o0o

 

"How was your first day - well, first morning?"

 

Minerva sits down next to Ella at lunchtime with an I-know-it-all-too-well smile. Ella removes her already exhausting face from her palm to smile back with the few drops of energy left in her being.

 

"Well... it did not exactly go smoothly, Minerva."

 

The deputy headmistress giggles:

 

"It happens to all new teachers. Things will fall into their place in no time, I assure you."

 

Ella rubs her forehead, having the least interest in the food in front of her. She thinks out loud:

 

"How can you only shoot a look and they all go silent and listen?"

 

"What are you looking for, Severus? That seat is vacant," Minerva suddenly speaks over Ella's shoulder.

 

Ella turns around to look at her other side. The famous black-top-to-toe figure is hesitantly taking the seat next to hers.

 

"Professor Snape," she greets with audible exhaustion.

 

"Professor Virtanen," the stone cold voice returns. They do not so much as glance at each other.

 

Minerva comes back to Ella's question:

 

"Well, that look works when it has been associated with well-established consequences for their misbehaviour. In other words, they are not put in place by the look per se; they are put in place by the vision of what will happen if they continue their way against the warning that look conveys."

 

"What will happen then?" Ella asks, feeling increasingly helpless.

 

"Points taken, for example, and detentions if that still proves inadequate."

 

Ella sighs. Much as she has gone from surprised to tired, from tired to helpless and then from helpless to crossed in the course of one single morning, she still feels bad at the idea of punishing the children, taking points included.

 

"The formula is pre-warned and consistent consequences. You need to manage it in a way that makes them know exactly what to expect for each type of behaviour they display. Answering a question correctly means gaining house points, for instance. Slacking off from classwork means losing points. Neglecting homework means detentions. So on and so forth. Structure, system, they will learn, and then you can start to actually teach."

 

It takes Ella every bit of her control to refrain from slamming her head against the table. She had been so naive to imagine teaching as giving academic presentations to students instead of to her colleagues. No. Her colleagues came by their own will, sat still, listened, took notes and asked relevant questions. Her students do not.

 

She starts picking at the food while murmuring both to herself and to Minerva:

 

"Is it also because I'm too young compared to most of the professors?"

 

Minerva giggles again while waving it off:

 

"You are one year younger than the most feared professor of Hogwarts the past decade," she eyes the other side of Ella amusingly. "Our students have learnt soon and well that a young teacher does not equal a lenient teacher - if not the opposite. Drop that glare, young man."

 

Ella does not turn around this time. The last thing she wants at the moment is to lose her composure and laugh at the glare that has been shot at Minerva in vain.

 

"Just relax, Ella. You still have ample time to figure things out and steer your classes in the right direction. Teaching is a learning-from-doing job; it takes time and it always does. Anyway, remember that you have the Heads of Houses at your back. Any students going too far out of the way, you can always inform us and we will deal with them accordingly."

 

"I see. Thank you, Minerva."

 

"Don't even mention. Now eat before you run out of time. Do you have class this afternoon?"

 

"Thank Merlin, only one more. Perhaps I can spend the rest of the time trying to work out the 'structure' and 'system' as you suggest then..."

 

"That's good. If you think you need some tips and tricks, find me anytime."

 

"Thank you very much, Minerva."

 

Ella smiles and ignores the sound of an apparent snort on her other side.

 

o0o

 

"Why does this subject have to be compulsory? My father was really pissed off. If only his vote had not been overridden by the other Board members..."

 

The blond Slytherin boy makes no pretence to keep his complaint to himself. Ella's observation yesterday rings true; he obviously has a problem with the subject before even studying it (in her class, at least). He obviously has a problem with displaying proper respect to the teacher too.

 

While Ella is weighing options of what to do about that, Harry shoots a dead glare at the blond boy, ten times more intimidating than his father's glare.

 

Ella decides to ignore it this time. She is in no mood. She wants to get this last class of the day over with and then take some time to regain her breaths.

 

"Good afternoon, students. Welcome to Muggle Studies. As you have known from yesterday, I am Professor Virtanen. I am from Finland and I am happy to see you all."

 

She smiles, and experience from the morning tells her that she has to pause a few seconds for even that piece of information to sink into the little minds.

 

"The purpose of Muggle Studies in your curriculum is to help you become better aware of and understand the co-existence of the muggle and the wizarding societies. We will start with the different communities in different regions of Britain, then we will move on to the Continent, and then the world. As such, the general rule is that we start all the inquiries from our own immediate surroundings before moving further. So now, to get started, I would like each of you to introduce yourself and the community your family live in. If you are a pureblood, I then would like you to share how much you know and what you think about the muggle community; similarly, about the wizarding community if you are a muggle-born and about both if you are a half-blood."

 

"How about if one is a squib, Professor?"

 

The blond boy, named Malfoy, casually raises his voice to pose the question, with a smirk no less.

 

"First, I expect you to raise your hand and wait to be called upon before speaking in class, Mr Malfoy. That goes to all of you as well. Second, I trust you are aware that Hogwarts does not offer instructions for wizard-born muggles, also known as 'squibs' in Britain. Therefore if you are sitting in this classroom or attending this school for that matter, it means you cannot be a 'squib'. Now since we are discussing this, the international term for 'squib' is 'wizard-born muggle', and I would prefer you to use that term in our class. Most research work you will refer to for your homework use that term, and although it is not essentially true, 'squib' is considered a belittling term by certain communities in Britain, as well as in the United States. Do you have any other questions?"

 

Ella is amazed at how an extra drop of sternness in her voice helps with the class discipline. Instead of the messes she had this morning, now she is having attentive looks and respectful nods. All it takes is a slightly worse mood than usual.

 

Malfoy raises his hand, his eyes glittering with rebellion.

 

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?"

 

"Can you give us an example, Professor? I mean the self-introduction. Can you introduce yourself and your background so that we know how to do it ourselves?"

 

Another defiant smirk.

 

"Sure, Mr Malfoy. It's a good idea. So you can listen and then follow my example. I am a wizard-born muggle. My father is a pureblood and my mother a half-blood. In Finland, most wizarding families live among muggles; so do my family, and so did I when I was back there. As such, at the personal level, I am not familiar with the lifestyle some wizarding communities in Britain employ, which is to live completely separately from the muggle communities. For me, the wizarding and the muggle worlds are hardly two worlds; they are more like two aspects of one united world. That said, this perception is bound to differ depending on one's background, lifestyle and experiences."

 

Half of the class start to get distracted; some try to cover up their yawns, in vain. Malfoy, however, is still staring at Ella as if he were expecting his look to cause some sort of damage; Harry is swallowing each and every word and the girl with bushy hair next to him is taking notes enthusiastically.

 

"So you are a squib, Professor," Malfoy continues pushing.

 

"Wizard-born muggle, Mr Malfoy. I suggest you take note of the term since we are supposed to use it in this class."

 

"I am just wondering, Professor. As you said, sq... wizard-born muggles are not allowed to attend Hogwarts, then how come a professor can be a wizard-born muggle?"

 

Ella almost sighs. Her patience is wearing thin. Only yesterday she still thought it were impossible.

 

"I would not say wizard-born muggles are not allowed at Hogwarts, Mr Malfoy. Education is a service offered and received. Education suitable for wizard-born muggle students is not available at Hogwarts, therefore said students have no reason to come here, therefore they are not here. For example, if you want to eat ice-cream and the cafe in your neighbourhood does not sell ice-cream, naturally you would go find ice-cream somewhere else. It hardly means you are not allowed at the said cafe; you are not there simply because the service it offers does not suit your needs. Do you get my point?"

 

Malfoy does not react; however much of the class seem to be impressed by the example.

 

"As for your question, I am here because I can offer a service that you young wizards and witches can benefit from, which is my expertise in a field relevant to your Muggle Studies curriculum. It has little to do with whether I have magic or not, just like you usually don't need to make sure the ice-cream shop owner know how to compose music before you buy his ice-cream. Is my answer satisfying, Mr Malfoy?"

 

The boy surrenders. He shrugs it off.

 

"I expect a verbal answer, Mr Malfoy, and for your information, I do not take a shrug as an appropriate display of proper respect."

 

"Yes, professor," he spits out grudgingly. Ella thanks Väinämöinen that the case can be closed now.

 

"Very well. Now we will proceed with your self-introduction. To encourage you to listen attentively, I would like you all to take notes of what your friends say about their background and their thoughts on the communities they do and do not live in. Your homework will be a three-foot essay summarising the points all your classmates have mentioned, with clarification on the notions that occur the most and the least frequently. Any question before we start?"

 

Little heads slightly shake; some students quickly get their quills and parchments ready for notes; others don't care.

 

"I expect you all to take the task seriously. If I see any of you not taking notes while your classmates speak, five points will be taken for each time you are caught. Failing to hand in homework with adequate quality will lead to detentions where you will redo the assignment anyway. So try to focus and do your work."

 

It turns out to be the best class Ella has had since she started her teaching career... this morning.


	6. A dad in the infirmary

Ella drags herself through the first week of teaching and falls back into her chronic sleeping disorder in the process. Already on Thursday evening, she has to make her way to the infirmary to ask for medication. She pauses at the doorstep.

 

"I have told you three times and I will not tell you again, Mr Potter. You will not stay here tonight despite whatever you may say or do. I told you he is fine, he is just sleeping. He will be teaching and taking points from Gryffindor again tomorrow afternoon the latest."

 

"Please, Madam Pomfrey. I promise I won't bother you. I will..."

 

"The only thing you will do is to return to your dorm before it's past curfew, Mr Potter. Merlin, look, it's already past curfew! I will have to contact your Head of House now, Mr Potter, and I advise that you obey before getting yourself into trouble."

 

"Hello, Poppy," Ella speaks up hesitantly.

 

"Ella? How can I help you?"

 

Poppy turns around to register Ella's presence. Her eyes scan Ella from top to toe and all the way back. A truly die-hard mediwitch.

 

"I think I have messed up my sleep patterns," Ella answers. "I used to have chronic sleeping disorder due to travelling; I think it is recurring. Can you give me something to stabilise the sleep pattern?"

 

"Yes, I think I can. Have you used any medication for that diagnosis before?"

 

"I used a muggle supplement. But I don't have it with me now; I didn't expect it to recur."

 

"I see. Let's try a mild dose of Sleeping Draught then. But can you wait a second? I have to send Mr Potter back to his dorm first. It's already past curfew."

 

"It's okay Poppy. I can wait. But may I ask what's wrong, Harry? You don't look very okay."

 

Sad and almost wet emerald eyes look up at Ella with a mixture of hope and helplessness.

 

"I just want to stay here tonight with my dad, but Madam Pomfrey won't let me."

 

"Your dad?" Ella's eyes open wide. "What's wrong with him?"

 

"He had an accident. He was brewing in his lab, then it exploded."

 

"It WHAT?!"

 

"He's fine, Ella," Poppy puts in. "This kind of accident is nothing for a hell of a potion master like himself. His lab has very good security wards; he only inhaled some toxic gas from the potion, which I have already detoxicated from his system. He is just sleeping because I gave him Dreamless Sleep. Basically, I try to get him to sleep every time he ends up here because he never sleeps enough otherwise. Problem is, you see, his little one insists on staying overnight here with him, despite my efforts to explain."

 

She eyes said little one disapprovingly. The little one fidgets and plays with the seam of his shirt.

 

"It is past curfew anyway, so can I stay, Madam Pomfrey?"

 

"For Merlin's sake, Mr Potter," Poppy exclaims, "you are as stubborn as your fathers. Both of them."

 

Ella swears that the boy beams, although he tries hard to suppress it from being showed.

 

"This is my last word. I am calling your Head of House. She will send someone here to escort you to your dorm. And you will see Severus tomorrow, safe and sound. Now give me a second. I'm sorry for the delay, Ella."

 

"It's okay Poppy. Look, how about me walking with you to your dorm, Harry? Then your Head of House won't need to send anyone here."

 

Harry looks incredibly disappointed. He probably has hoped that Ella would take his side and ask Poppy to let him stay.

 

"Maybe you can ask Minerva about this, Poppy? I'm leaving anyway; I can walk him there."

 

"All right, I will ask her. Thank you, Ella."

 

Ella smiles. The mediwitch retreats to her office.

 

"Come."

 

Ella guides the boy towards an empty corner of the infirmary, sits him down on a chair and crouches down to meet his eyes.

 

"You see, Madam Pomfrey says your dad is fine, he is only sleeping and will be well again tomorrow. So it's only like he is sleeping every night, just that tonight he is sleeping here instead of his quarters, and you will be sleeping in your dorm. Not really different than how it normally is, is it?"

 

"I just want to stay here with him," Harry says quietly. "He's always there with me when I'm sick."

 

That causes a violent tug at Ella's already tired and sleepy heart. She fights with all her remaining strength not to pull the child into a hug.

 

"So... you want that when he wakes up, first thing he sees is you being there with him, correct?" Ella asks gently.

 

Harry sadly nods.

 

"Sure he will be so happy about that, right?"

 

He nods again, his eyes now full of hope.

 

"But then if he realises that you have disobeyed Madam Pomfrey and your Head of House to stay with him, I doubt that he will still be happy."

 

His face immediately drops.

 

"You have homework to do still, I assume?"

 

"Yes," his voice falls quiet, his eyes studying the top of his shoes.

 

"Now let's imagine. Your dad wakes up and sees you staying here with him. He will be all happy. Then he finds out that you have disobeyed adults' instructions, neglected your homework and who knows, maybe also your sleep. Or your dad wakes up and doesn't see you but knows you are obeying adults' instructions and staying in your dorm or attending your classes where you belong, that you have done your homework properly, slept well and eaten well even if he has been sick and not watching over you. In which case will he be happier?"

 

The boy presses the fronts of his shoes against the floor and murmurs under his breaths:

 

"Why could he stay here with me and even had days off when I was sick?"

 

"Because he is an adult."

 

Ella recalls herself being pissed off by this same argument as a child. No, she wants to do a better job than the adults in her childhood.

 

"Adults can handle lack of sleep better because their bodies have fully grown and no longer developing like children's. They are also more skilled at handling their tasks even when the regular routines are disturbed because they have been practising it for a longer time than children. Therefore they are expected to take on more responsibilities than children and have more liberty in when to do what and where to stay. In other words, when your dad stays by your side when you are sick, his life is actually less affected than your life would be if you insist on staying here with him tonight. Do you see my point?"

 

Please, please do see my point, kid, she thought to herself. I'm not in the best mood ever to explain things to thirteen-year-olds.

 

Harry neither replies nor moves.

 

"I suppose now we will walk you to your dorm, where you will do homework, then go to bed and sleep well, so that tomorrow your dad will wake up to see a happy boy, shall we?"

 

She stands up, and Harry follows. She lets out a secret sigh of relief.

 

"Poppy, we are leaving," she announces to the office door.

 

"Very well," Poppy steps out, holding three vials in her hands. "I informed Minerva that you will escort him to the Gryffindor dorm. And here is your potion. One vial per night, three nights in a row, then take a break to see if your sleep pattern has stabilised. If not, see me for a further checkup."

 

"Thanks, Poppy. And good night."

 

"Thanks, good night to you too, Ella. And goodbye, Mr Potter," she eyes the boy again, waiting to see his reaction.

 

"Goodbye, Madam Pomfrey," he replies, unhappy but obeying.

 

Leaving the infirmary, Ella walks with Harry in silence along the deserted, dimly lighted corridors. When they have made half of the way, she asks:

 

"How has your week been?"

 

"It's been good, professor. How about yours?"

 

"More tiring than I expected," Ella smiles softly. "But interesting."

 

"Can I visit you at weekend?"

 

Harry then gasps, as if realising he has said something he shouldn't have.

 

"I mean... well, I know you must be busy now... I'm sorry..."

 

"I have been busy indeed. Therefore I suppose I deserve a little talk over a cup of tea with you at weekend."

 

He beams.

 

"Come on Friday evening after dinner or Saturday morning after breakfast."

 

"Thank you, professor!" he continues beaming from one ear to another and starts skipping beside Ella.

 

She chuckles. It seems teachers are bound to growing immature grey hair due to the excessive amount of problems they have to solve daily, but they are also bound to eternal youth because honestly who can grow old with these little creatures surrounding them all their life?


	7. The first weekend

It seems that the first thing Harry does the next morning is to run all the way back to the infirmary to check on his dad because then they show up in the Great Hall for breakfast at the same time. Said dad looks perfectly his normal self despite a little slower movements. He takes the seat on the other side of Minerva.

"Are you legally released or have you sneaked out as usual?" Minerva asks.

"Legally released. This time," he answers blankly.

"Are you sure you can already teach?"

"I don't see why not."

Ella smirks at her breakfast. Now that he is sick, he is finally capable of being a normal human and not glaring at everyone or speaking with silky sarcasm all the time, isn't he?

Three minutes into the breakfast, Snape starts to cough into his handkerchief. Loudly.

"Are you sure you haven't sneaked out?" Minerva asks worriedly.

"Sure," he answers, too taken by the coughing to add any attitude to his speech. "I think my airway is still a little irritated. Will be fine by lunchtime."

That's wrong. At lunchtime, he coughs even more badly, probably the consequence of abusing his vulnerable airway the whole morning. And Väinämöinen only knows why he and Ella have ended up on two sides of Minerva yet again.

Ella hesitantly puts the small package she has brought from her quarters on the table. After a few seconds of contemplation, she pushes it cross Minerva, towards him.

"Professor Snape."

The man pauses in between his coughs, registers the package and then eyes Ella with a questioning look.

"It looks like candy, but it is condensed virgin extract of medical herbs. Specifically made for calming irritated airways. And before you ask, yes, it is a muggle product. From a Pacific island. I hope it will help with your coughing."

Now it actually feels weird that he is only looking and not glaring. Well, he is being a normal human being at the time being after all.

An eternity later, said human being finally speaks up:

"Thank you, Professor Virtanen."

Only so that poor little Harry won't be too worried about his dad, mind you.

o0o

"Professor?"

As if he has been waiting somewhere near the staff table, Harry shows up all of a sudden to catch Ella at the end of dinner time in the Great Hall.

"Hello, Harry. Are you coming today or tomorrow morning?"

"Can I... May I come tomorrow morning, professor?" he asks timidly.

"As I have told you, yes, of course, you can," Ella smiles.

"May I... uhm... bring my friends too? I mean... They want to meet you out of class too. Only two of them. They are my best friends. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, also Gryffindors like me."

Ella chuckles. They are not scanning identification at the airport's border control, are they?

"Sure, Harry. Any of your friends, and anytime."

"Thank you, professor," he beams.

"See you tomorrow then?"

"Yes, see you tomorrow."

As a result of that, Ella ends up spending the Friday evening in Minerva's quarters. The deputy headmistress has offered to discuss and share her experience in classroom management with Ella, and so they are doing over a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"You took notes?," Miverva asks with surprise when Ella pulls out her pile of notes on questions and unsolved problems she has collected throughout the first week.

Ella blinks:

"Yes, of course. Otherwise, I can't remember. It's a little difficult for me to keep my mind organized while shifting between different groups of students several times a day. I need more time to get accustomed to it, I suppose."

"Yes, it's a common problem for those who have been working in other professions before becoming a teacher. Your mind has to break its flow into little shifts and play different little roles during the course of one day. At some point when you start to cover all the grade levels, you will find yourself thinking with an eleven-year-old mind for one hour and then a seventeen-year-old mind the next hour. It might be challenging but it will become automatic after a while."

"I see."

Ella deliberately takes a lot of notes as the conversation goes. She gladly feels like an ethnographer on a field trip again, two weeks after throwing herself into Hogwarts as a professor.

As the conversation over professional issues concludes, Ella's eyes move to Minerva and meet a ridiculous look. She slightly frowns. What makes the deputy headmistress seem so sad? Sure they couldn't have touched anything sensitive while discussing merely students and classes and such things, or could they?

"Minerva?"

The old witch is slightly taken aback when she realizes that Ella does notice. Her eyes study Ella for a few more moments before she sighs:

"You remind me very much of a former student."

Her voice is as quiet as the ghost of a long-lost memory. Ella looks her in the eyes and softly smiles.

"I look like her?"

Minerva shakes her head:

"Not really. She had red hair and green eyes. But there is something about you that always makes me think of her. I don't know what."

The word "had" tells Ella there is something wrong about this. And she doesn't have to wait long to have the confirmation.

"If she had lived... who knows, she could probably have become a professor too."

Ella registers the visible pain on the face of the ever business-meaning deputy headmistress. She remains quiet but expresses through her eyes that she is listening.

"She has passed. In the last war. Twenty-one years old."

Ella gasps.

"I trust you are informed about the war we had here in Britain in the 70s - 80s?"

"Yes," Ella answers. "There were reports on the Finnish news. But I was still too young back then so I know about it but don't remember much the details."

Minerva nods:

"I see."

"Was she from your House?"

"Yes, she was. And she was the Head Girl. Her background is opposite to yours - she was a muggle-born witch."

"I am very sorry, Minerva."

The old witch sighs once more before hiding herself behind a sip of her tea:

"I'm sorry for the emotionality, Ella."

o0o

"Dad won't let me touch the candy you gave him," Harry reports sulkily, and Ella wonders since when he has been sulking to her.

"Because it is not candy, young man. It is supposed to work as medication. Which means you are not supposed to use it when your airway is not irritated."

Said young man continues to sulk nevertheless. Ella shakes her head amusedly while serving tea to the three children on her sofa.

"I like your class, professor," Ron Weasley says with a smile. "I mentioned you when I wrote home and my dad said he knows you. Well, I mean he knows your name because he has read a lot of your work."

"Really?" Ella suppresses a proud grin.

"Yeah... My dad likes muggles. No, he doesn't like muggles. He is passionate about muggles."

"I see."

"I have read your work too," Hermione Granger enthusiastically puts in. "I have just subscribed to the Policies and Social Justice journal."

Taken by surprise, Ella raises an eyebrow:

"You subscribe to Policies and Social Justice?"

"Yes, professor. I have seen your name. You are a column writer," the girl beams.

"I am impressed that you do read that journal and even notice my name."

"Actually when I heard your name, it rang a bell. I remembered having seen it somewhere, so I browsed the library again and realized that I cited your article in my essay for History of Magic last year. That article you co-authored with Dr Tristan Flandin."

"I am impressed again that you cited our article for your second-year essay, Miss Granger."

The girl grins from one ear to another.

"Are you still writing for the journal, professor? When I checked the latest issue available in the library, you were still named a column writer."

"Yes, I still am one of its column writers. But are you serious you have subscribed for it?"

"Well… I know I won't understand everything but I think I will learn a lot reading it regularly."

Ella nods in approval and admits to herself for the third time that she is impressed.

"I have skimmed through all of your articles that I found in the library. You have travelled a lot for your research, " the girl continues, and it is written all over her face that she would like to hear stories.

"Yes, that's true," Ella smiles again.

"Where have you been to, professor?" Ron asks curiously. "My brother also travels a lot for his work. He says it's tiring but it's cool."

That pushes the right button. Ella brightens up and goes to her study to retrieve the world map. She opens it on the carpet of her living room and indicates to the children the places she has marked.

"I keep this map in my possession to occasionally make myself feel proud," she grins. "Quite many places I have set foot in, as you can see."

"Wicked!," Harry exclaims. "You have gone everywhere!"

"Far from 'everywhere', I'm afraid. But yes, I have travelled a lot. And your brother is right, Ron. It's exhausting most of the time but it's cool."

Now she has three pairs of excited eyes expecting stories from her. So she starts:

"On one of my field trips..."

Ella doesn't know it is only the beginning. In no time she ends up having little visitors every Saturday morning, starting with Harry's friends and then extending to many other students. She is the only professor who offers open casual weekend visits to students. She has a lot of "In Finland" and "On one of my field trips" stories to tell. And last but absolutely not least, she has a grand amount of sweets collected from one side of the world to another, stocked up well enough to cater for a school full of children for the good nine months they stay together.

But that is what will happen a while later. Today, before the children leave for lunch, she gives each of them a package of candy.

"Low sugar ginseng candy from Korea. Share it with your friends and have fun. And Harry, this is so that you don't envy your dad," she adds with amusement. "Don't eat too much at once though, the lot of you."

Ella watches the trio skipping away, their laughter still hanging in the air of her living room.


	8. Two sides of a coin

 

"Ella?"

Minerva's voice pulls her young colleague out of whatever she has been immersed in since the very beginning of their meeting. Slightly startled, Ella awkwardly shifts in her seat and drops the tip of her pen back down to the notepad - which has remained empty. She is just not in the right mood today, or this week for that matter.

"May I ask what it is that concerns you?"

Ella lets out a quiet sigh, still having no idea what she should do, or say. It has been occupying her mind the whole week, and as time goes by, instead of fading away, it escalates.

This is the last thing in the world she wants to get herself into. The only relation she wants to have with Snape is her minding her own business and him minding his. Period.

Yet Snape doesn't live on his own on an isolated island, which at the peak of her fury Ella sincerely wished he did. She was stricken and then has been unexpectedly haunted by the sight of the terrified thirteen year old boy whose only mistake is messing up his potions too often, which results in, as she later found out, verbal abuse constantly falling upon him on a weekly basis, for all the years he has been at Hogwarts. The scene she witnessed in the staffroom that day, the horrible words she heard with her own ears Snape deliver in front of everyone - her, Remus and all his classmates - inflated her anger to an extent that broke its own record. It took Ella every bit of her self-control to refrain from following Snape, cornering him and giving him a good piece of her mind. That wouldn't have worked, however, and she knew it.

The problem, the BIG problem, is that NO ONE, in authority or otherwise, has ever tackled the problem, or, perhaps, considered it a problem, to begin with. An even BIGGER problem is that the boy's family think he deserves it, which has never been tackled either. The short laughter bursting out when the boy's boggart took the form of Snape only to end up being dressed into grandma clothes offered a bit of relief, but far from curing the mess forming in her mind.

Ella has an urge to yell at everyone from the top to the bottom of this school who have been keeping a blind eye on this, including Minerva - in fact, especially Minerva, who is supposed to be responsible for the Gryffindors' well-being. But after striking her hair to all directions, she must admit that yelling would hardly work. Or would it?

Väinämöinen only knows. One thing Ella knows, however, is that it wouldn't work for Snape, which makes the idea completely pointless, not to mention the risk of counter effect. At the end of the day, it would again be the poor boy who has to bear all the consequences. She has to think. Even though she is entirely at loss of what to think.

Abuse of power, the forgotten vulnerable, half-hearted defence and support - all those things Ella has been discussing and stating opinions about for years, making money from that even. Why does it turn out to be so difficult to handle in this smaller context, where only one abusive teacher, one thirteen-year-old boy and a bunch of ignorant adults are at play? It causes her headache. By this Saturday evening, her mind barely has space for anything else to enter. In a nutshell, it is driving her insane.

"It's the issue between Sn... Professor Snape and Mr Longbottom."

The words slip out, and right that moment Ella knows she has shot the bullet. Now there is no way back. She closes her eyes for a few seconds to register that fact meanwhile Minerva falls into dead silence.

"What... issue?"

The Gryffindor Head of House is apparently caught off guard. Ella frowns. Could she have been truly and totally unaware of such a thing that has been happening in public for a good two years? Ella's wrath is again triggered.

"It is not a secret, Minerva. I saw and heard it myself, in front of Remus, in front of other students. And I have found out it was not a single incident, rather it has become a sort of bloody routine in Potion class! Professor Snape freely and openly belittled Neville as if there were nothing wrong about that. Has anyone ever bothered to tell him he is not supposed to do that? Or do we consider verbal abuse not a thing? The boy is not merely scared, Minerva. He is terrified. And, I bet, traumatised as well. What did he do to deserve that? I have asked the kids - all of them said the only thing he ever did wrong is failing to brew proper potions. And no one has ever seen the connection between that and the fact that he has been subject to Professor Snape's verbal abuse since day one at this school?"

Now the two women are staring at each other. Ella can't believe it. Have all of her efforts to keep her composure and plan proper steps to take just collapsed in one minute? Moreover, Väinämöinen help her, has she just sort of half yelled at the Head of Gryffindor, the deputy headmistress, the experienced teacher triple her age?

Surprisingly, when Minerva finally seems to have figured out what is going on, she looks relieved. Relieved?

"Well, I see. I thought you were mentioning... another thing."

"Another thing?"

What "another thing" could be even worse than that? In a split second, in the midst of her confusion, it crosses her mind. This is a boarding school. But for Väinämöinen's sake, this is Hogwarts! Seriously?!

"I assume we are thinking of the same thing," Minerva says assuringly. "No, it has never happened in the history... well, the recorded history, of Hogwarts. But of course, we know it does happen here and there so we ought to be cautious. I am glad the issue we are talking about is not that."

Now it's Ella who lets out a sigh of relief. But well, no, she is not glad.

"I'm sorry for my rant, Minerva. Well, I know I just started at Hogwarts three weeks ago, and there are many things I need to learn still, and I don't want to talk about other teachers behind their backs. But Neville... I just can't help feeling bad for him. I don't understand why Professor Snape would do that. Sure he is not a terribly sociable person and there is nothing wrong about that, but being so abusive towards a child? A student? Constantly and publicly? I don't understand. And why are we letting it happen, not once but repeatedly?"

Minerva sighs:

"First of all, I know this will anger you further but Severus is like that not only to Mr Longbottom. He is like that to almost all students, especially Gryffindors. And yes, I have talked to him, Albus has talked fo him, but he still has not got it. It's easier to change a regime than to change a personality, indeed..."

"But other than that he simply gets away with treating almost all students that way? And why especially Gryffindors?"

Now Minerva looks like she doesn't know what to do with Ella. Ella starts to feel creepy.

"Albus believes unpleasant teachers do play a role in preparing students for life. On the other hand, apart from that problem of his, Severus is a very competent and responsible teacher. No other professors in Hogwarts history have ever claimed the position at the age of twenty-one like he did and succeeded to the extent he does. No other professors in Hogwarts history have become a Head of House before even reaching thirty and again succeeded to the extent he does. He is flawed, indeed, but at the same time, he is special. We have been trying to help him with the flaws... well, now that you bring it up, I must admit we have not really followed through with it... I know it is hard to believe but deep down Severus doesn't have the desire to hurt anyone. And yes, we all know he ends up doing that anyway."

Miverva shrugs before continuing:

"It's true that Severus has been... extra strict with Mr Longbottom. I have talked to him specifically about that a few times. He has been sort of avoiding it. I believe he has also been struggling with the constraint himself, but I don't know why, and he wouldn't share."

"Whatever it is," Ella says, deeply bothered, "letting a child be abused is a too expensive price to pay in exchange for anything, Minerva. Not even one child, leave alone almost all students."

"I know. But honestly you can shoot unforgivables at him all you want and he still cannot change his way overnight. I have known Severus since he was a timid first year arriving at this castle's doorstep for the first time. If we want his good side to be around, we have got to bear the other side of him too. Moreover, I don't think there will be serious damage... You always have a good chance of running into even more unpleasant people anywhere, anytime. When the children proceed to upper years, they would simply get used to it."

"I see," Ella surrenders. So that is it. She will have to do it herself.

The last drop of Ella's energy is officially squeezed out as she says goodbye and leaves Minerva's quarters. She needs to have a good night's sleep and pray that she will magically know what to do when she wakes up tomorrow morning. Bringing it up in a staff meeting? No, that would just make the situation worse. Convincing Neville's grandmother to raise her voice? No, that's impractical. Encouraging and training students to stand up to him? That is technically fair but wouldn't sit well with the co-worker relationship. Putting the case on Policies and Social Justice, or worse, the Daily Prophet? That feels amazingly satisfying but no, perhaps he does not deserve that... yet. Filing a case of child abuse and suing him to court? Well, that might be a bit too much...

"Ouch!"

Ella falls back after bumping into something like a brick wall on her way, but a hand catches her elbow in midair and pulls her back to her feet. Before her brain manages to work out anything, said hand briskly releases the grip and she realises it is not a brick wall.

"Are you all right?"

The deep voice that poses the question sounds so gentle that Ella suspects it is someone else in disguise.

"I... am fine. Sorry," she murmured to the dark figure towering her, feeling like that stormy afternoon in Spinner's End is repeating itself. Why does she always have to get her stupidity displayed in front of this insufferable man? She hopes against hopes that her flushing is not visible in the dark.

While Ella is still standing dumbstruck, gentle hands have picked up her things from the floor and are handing them back to her. Yes, handing, not shoving. Who is this and what has he done with Severus Snape?

"Th... thank you."

Ella looks up at Snape; as her eyes meet his, she sees something very different, something like a flick of warmth and spirit that has been absent from this very pair of eyes all the time she has known him. What is strange, though, is that it lasts only a split second before he regains his customary scowl.

"You are welcome. I have to do my patrol."

As if I were purposefully stopping you from whatever you are doing?, Ella mutters to herself with annoyance. Suppressing a snort, she steps aside to clear his way without another word.

"Goodbye then," Snape coldly delivers the line and walks away as though to brush Ella off his life as quickly as possible.


End file.
